


Len Hors d'Oeuvres

by BananaNeko



Category: Vocaloid
Genre: Any Topic, Cat Len, Crazy, Extending Repertoire, F/M, Gen, M/M, Occasional Fantasy, Open to requests, Or Morbid, Stress Relief, Written by Fangirl, len - Freeform, mini drabbles, pervy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-09-25 20:27:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9842501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BananaNeko/pseuds/BananaNeko
Summary: Bite-sized drabbles mostly 100 words or less for Len fangirls, one random topic each. Rating may change, currently updating daily.Pick a nice-sounding chapter and nibble. :3





	1. Cat Len

**Author's Note:**

> Mainly stress relief for author – either by random inspiration or topics assigned by a random word generator. In other words, random drabbles.
> 
> Also open to one-word topics suggested by readers! ...Though I may not be able to respond immediately, sorry. xP

* * *

 

Winter.

Len sits on the windowsill on his paws, like a dainty ginger teapot cover, snug in a puddle of sunlight.

The author sits shivering under a mountain of quilt in her armchair by the fire.

Len’s round eyes study the snow-frosted muntin in wonder, the sky reflected like flecks of ice crystals in them. Gradually, they narrow… shutter, and settle back to dozing.

 

* * *

 

 


	2. Breakfast in Bed

* * *

 

Rin stirs drowsily under the silky sheets. ‘You’re gonna make breakfast for me, Len?’

His hands slide up her thigh.

‘I can make you a baby if you want.’

‘I just got married to you twenty-five hours ago, stupid!’ She can’t believe she even survived twenty- _four_ hours of his deluge of cheesy lines.

He looks glum – but the grin quickly returns. ‘Then, how about… I make you a French omelette in here?’ He traces circles on her stomach.

‘L-Len!’ _God_ , it’s so lame.

‘Cooked niceee and slow,’ he purrs to her further embarrassment. ‘Like they say; do as the French do in France. We’re on _honeymoon_ , baby.’

‘ _Len_.’

 

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I revise my statement (already). I'm gonna write on one topic each, not necessarily one word.


	3. One-Night Stand (i.e. Night Before the Exam)

* * *

 

Len sat cross-legged on his study chair, heel thumping an irritated rhythm against the chair leg as he squinted into the book on his lap. Three more books sat piled on the desk in front of him, big fat volumes, beside a half-empty cup of hot cocoa.

It was midnight already.

His left elbow moved at odd angles under the desk, making the chair shake faintly.

WHY hadn’t he started his revision earlier?

Heck, to start with– why hadn’t he paid attention in class?

He gave his twitching cock one more frustrated squeeze – felt his pants go wet, and cursed.

 

* * *

 

 


	4. Raspberries

* * *

 

‘So like I said, Miku wanted to start a club…’

They were having breakfast. Apparently, Len didn’t mind having fresh raspberries in his cereal; squashy red blistery lumps bobbing in the milk. Rin just couldn’t stand it.

She watched in repulsion as he rolled one about on his tongue, making it poke out from between his pouted lips, flashing it at her.

‘Len, eww! That’s gross…’

He squished it between his teeth, making it squirt juice. She cringed. ‘Okay, I get it! It’s good. Now stop it or I’m gonna puke.’

‘I was just thinking.’ He munched nonchalantly, ‘Do ovaries look like this?’

_SLAP._

The cereal bowl went flying.

 

* * *

 


	5. Obsidian

* * *

 

The black water ripples against the rock shore; silent, gleaming.

At the edge of the water sits a boy, unmoving, never lifting his eyes from the incessantly shifting lake surface. The moon shines on his pale face and casts it into the water, a finger’s breadth beneath the colourless skin.

On that bloodless, scaly face, two green orbs.

He touches them; blinks when warm fluid oozes from beneath his sharp claws.

Drip.

The ugly face in the water dissolves. Why is he so different?

_Run, Len! Run!!_

‘rrr-Rin…’ Gone. GONE.

He howls to the starless sky in anguish, and takes to the water.

Under the cold, cruel moon.

 

* * *

 


	6. Plushie

* * *

 

The Author snuggles in bed with her new life-size plushie she’s just unwrapped from the Amazon delivery box, purring like a kitty with a fresh bowl of cream. She strokes back the honey-coloured hair on her plushie till the knots made during transportation go all smooth and silky, and then peppers his adorable face and body and crotch all over with loving kisses.

The plushie squirms in discomfort. ‘M-Master~ unh, yameteee…’

Master continues to treat him like a plushie anyway.

 

* * *

 


	7. Cream Pie

* * *

 

Fresh greasy cream squirts from the joints of her lips as the boy shoves his fingers messily in, cramming the pie into her mouth. ‘Chew. _Swallow_.’

Meiko’s eyes water as she chokes, face stuffed like a pufferfish.

‘How is it?’ he demands impatiently.

‘She can’t talk, Hansel,’ the blonde girl next to him sighs, rolling her eyes. ‘And don’t bother – she probably can’t tell what she did wrong with it, anyway.’

Hansel crosses his arms at Meiko and barks, ‘Tomorrow again, 5 A.M. Practice,’ before stalking off.

The witch groans through her mouthful of pie. The twins’ training routine is brutal.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on "Amazing Dolce" by Hitoshizuku-P :3


	8. Serene

* * *

 

Rin is two, waddling along the narrow bridge. Her cute hair is tied like a candy wrapper and she wears woolly pink shoes that squeak.

She smiles happily up at her big red balloon, which she’s holding preciously onto by its string.

 

Her big brother has been looking for her for a while.

Finally he sees her on the bridge, pitching over the edge with a wail –

Then she’s gone, and the ownerless balloon is floating up, up into the serene sky.

 

He rushes over. But it’s too late.

Her tiny body is bobbing in the river, lungs full of green water, her soggy pink shoes drifting limply alongside her head.

 

* * *

 


	9. Cheese

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Raspberry duo is back :}

* * *

 

‘ _What is it_ with you and cheese all of a sudden, Len?’ Rin asks exasperatedly. ‘Since last month.’ Her brother sits opposite her with a hunk of cheese stuffed in his ratty face, chewing rather blissfully.

He takes his time swallowing before answering, ‘It smells nice.’

‘It _stinks_.’

‘It doesn’t!’

‘Go get your nose checked.’

‘It reminds me of you last month when you bled the bed.’ He sighs, taking another long whiff. ‘Don’t worry. Only guys get it.’

 

* * *

 


	10. Kitchen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Did someone say Hannibal?

* * *

 

The Author stuffed bloody mince into a tiny walnut-sized pie, her fingertips going _shquish, squish_ in the suspiciously shady kitchen.

Adding the finished pie to rows of similar little pies on a tray, she rearranged them neatly before chucking them into the oven she’d preheated to a nice, sexy temperature. The kitchen was cosy and hot, the homey walls splattered with blood and gore and whatnot.

She looked up as one of the timers went off. ‘Oh! The pasta’s ready.’

Collecting a strainer on the way, she lifted the pot off the stove and scooped out the bright blonde pasta swimming inside. It swirled and spread like fine satin feathers in the water, shimmering wet when she lifted it up.

‘Mmmm~’ the Author smiled.

He smelled delicious.

 

* * *

 


	11. Seabed

* * *

 

The Author had a weird dream.

She dreamt of a reef, in which she was a brain coral and Len was a pretty yellow seahorse, bobbing like a soap bubble in the blue. As she watched, his horny round belly expanded and ejected a fountain of teensy, bright fry. They whirled dizzily, eyeballs spinning cutely.

Then Len turned heel, and swam away – and the army of baby sea-foals followed their daddy suit, swimming away in single file, and soon they all disappeared.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just FYI there is no such thing as a “sea-foal”, thank you.  
> Google seahorses to clarify any gender-related doubts.


	12. Blue

* * *

 

The same night, Len dreams of a nuclear reactor.

He’s gently falling through a world of blue – pure, beautiful, otherworldly blue – among vertical pillars of steel that descend forever. It’s neither hot nor cold, nor painful, though he feels like it ought to be. It’s so, so silent. There’s no sound, not even of his own heartbeats.

His fingertips, disintegrating into microscopic motes of dust till he's no more.

It’s a strange feeling, seeing the patch of familiar sky above gradually grow smaller… smaller, disappearing. He knows he can never return there anymore, even if he wants to.

He doesn’t.

It’s so peaceful here.

 

* * *

 


	13. Cat Len2

* * *

 

A loud purr issues from Len’s throat, velvety fur vibrating beneath the author’s fingers. The author smiles. ‘You like that, huh?’

He squirms about happily in her lap as she continues to tickle his sweet spot, paws flopping in the air, rubbing fur all over her stomach and sweatpants.

The author tries to scowl, but it turns all mushy when Len starts kneading her arm with soft little paws.

She can’t concentrate on her keyboard.

 

* * *

 


	14. Spite

* * *

 

Midnight brings a sobbing bluenette with silk skin, hunched painfully on his knees, rear striped with bleeding lines of inflamed skin.

Fondly patting the thin black crop in his hand, Len slaps one foot on the bluenette’s bare back – to which he flinches – and leisurely rolls him over, before straddling him. The blonde reveals a butterfly knife with a sunny smile.

There’s no one home to hear the bluenette’s shrill, unmanly screams.

\---

Len awakes to the morning sunshine, his vision buried in waves of soft, dark blue hair.

He simply smiles, spooning up to his brother-in-law, and goes back to sleep.

 

* * *

 


	15. Addiction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...It's 3 AM... I feel like shit...

* * *

 

Life was… exhausting.

It could never just _end_ , like he often wished it would; it just continued on unstoppably, day after day after day, while his lungs steadily rotted.

Held in his hand, hovering indecisively in mid-air – is a thin, finger-length stick of rolled paper.

He often wonders how such an innocent-looking thing could cause the abnormal levels of suffering and pain it did in the world. Just a stupid stick of rolled paper, with a bit of shit stuffed inside – shit which, according to them, includes _rocket fuel_ and _insecticide_ and _toilet cleaner_ and _poison_.

No wonder it tastes so good.

It only takes him a heartbeat to flip the lighter lid and light the end of the stick, and stick it into his mouth; he could do it with his eyes closed. The lazy coils of smoke smoulder in the back of his throat.

It’s an agonising battle every morning, day and night, trying so hard to quit _like a sane, competent human being_ – a battle he never wins. He loses, and loses, and loses every day.

And he wonders: what’s the point of fighting? It just hurts more – both before, and after.

 

* * *

 


	16. Stagnant

* * *

 

Master is a rather boring person who listlessly sits over the weekend.

 

Friday afternoon, her Vocaloid says he’s going out with Ia; she arrives at the doorstep in a red pinafore to pick him up.

He comes back on Saturday morning with Miku around his neck.

They spend the day in his room studying reproduction.

Ia arrives at the doorstep with sleeping bag and eye-bags, takes one look and runs down the street crying.

Sunday night he disappears into Miku’s bedroom.

Monday morning he strolls out of Kaito’s bedroom, gives Master a sidelong glance and passes her without comment.

 

* * *

 


End file.
